


I hope you remember me as I was

by Houdini123, LittleLizardLover



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Blood, Blood Loss, Caretaking, Character Death, Confessions, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Heavy Angst, Hurt!Futakuchi, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Sharing Body Heat, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houdini123/pseuds/Houdini123, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLizardLover/pseuds/LittleLizardLover
Summary: Volunteering to take Koganegawa's place will never be a regret, but Futakuchi never expected it to go like this.
Relationships: Aone Takanobu/Futakuchi Kenji
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	I hope you remember me as I was

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you guys enjoy this little treat, have some tissues at the ready :)
> 
> Written by LittleLizardLover and beta'd by Houdini :)

“Can you do it? My hands are shaky.”

Aone takes over setting up the snare as soon as the words leave Futakuchi’s mouth, no questions asked and with no hesitation. The white haired boy isn’t quite as good as Futakuchi at setting traps, but Futakuchi isn’t certain in his own ability to do much of anything at the moment. Walking from their camp had already drained all of his energy, and crouching down to reset the trap had sent flares of pain throughout his whole body.

It will have to do.

Futakuchi honestly doubts they’ll have to worry about food for much longer. The Games have been going on for about two weeks now and they’re two out of six left. It won’t be long before the game masters unleash some new horror on them to make them fight. Futakuchi doubts he’ll be able to survive whatever the games throw at them next. Aone doesn’t seem similarly concerned, and Futakuchi wasn’t sure if his friend was just being stubbornly optimistic about his condition or willfully ignorant.

He takes a deep breath, bracing himself to stand again and move onto the next trap but stops when Aone places a hand on his shoulder.

“What?” He asks, confused. Aone gives him a look, concerned and worried. “I’ll be fine.” Futakuchi defends, knowing exactly what was on his friend’s mind, “I can still walk.”

Suddenly, Aone stands. Before Futakuchi could react otherwise, the taller boy picked him up in his arms, carrying him like a bride.

“Do I weigh nothing to you?” Futakuchi asks, a slight joking tone in his voice. He’s lost a lot of weight since the start of the games so maybe he does weigh next to nothing now. Aone doesn’t say anything, beginning to walk in the direction of their next trap. They continued on like that for the rest of the day until they finally returned to the little cave that had been their shelter for the past few days.

Futakuchi could feel the throbbing of his wounds getting steadily worse as the day had worn on, but when Aone finally sets him down on their sleeping bag, he finds the pain almost impossible to ignore. He hisses as he shifts himself to a more upright position, feeling himself break out into a sweat from the minimal effort.

“Fuck, that hurts,” He says, hand coming up to press at his sides but immediately pulling away at the tenderness and pain. Aone knelt next to him, hands hovering just near his chest, a silent question on his face. “Go ahead.” Futakuchi sighs, letting his friend pull off first his jacket then his shirt.  
The bandages, graciously sent to them by their sponsors, have soaked through with blood. It’s not a pretty sight, yet Futakuchi can’t look away. “That doesn’t look good.”

Aone nods slightly in agreement, large hands starting to unwind the bandages. As the pressure from the bandages lessen, Futakuchi can feel his broken ribs creak and shift painfully. The sight without the bandages is even worse. The right side of his torso is black and purple, bruised to all hell from where mallet had smashed into it. The left side sports a long cut, about a half-inch deep that isn’t quite bleeding anymore but is oozing pus. Angry red streaks raced out from the wound, following his veins and adding to the horrible tapestry that is his chest. Seeing it all like that, Futakuchi is impressed that he had the strength to walk at all that morning. He’d had the slightest sliver of hope before, but now he knows he isn’t going to make it. 

Aone reaches for the last of their bandages, going to rewrap Futakuchi’s chest, but the brunet pushes his hands away. “It’s not worth it, Aone. I’m going to die soon unless a miracle occurs, which I doubt.”

“No.” Aone says simply, “You won’t.”

Futakuchi almost laughs at that, but the immediate pain makes him stop after little more than an exhale of air. “There aren’t enough bandages to wrap my chest anyway. Let’s just leave it for now and eat. We still have some crackers, right?”

Thankfully, Aone backs off at his words and grabs their food from his bag. Futakuchi took his portion in his hand, getting shakier by the minute and let out a soft sigh. He nibbles a bit on a cracker, not feeling hungry in the slightest. 

“Colder than usual tonight,” He mentions, despite the sticky sweat that’s started to cover his whole body.

The look Aone gives him is enough for him to clue in that it is not, in fact, colder. Fever always comes hand in hand with infection, Futakuchi remembers. Being from District 7, he’s seen enough people succumb to their wounds not because of blood loss or trauma but because of infection ravaging their bodies. Fever made them delirious in their last hours, and Futakuchi really isn’t looking forward to that. 

Aone, to his credit, catches on quickly and begins tending to Futakuchi almost immediately. He washes the weeping wound, pressing on the sides to make the pus ooze out and be rinsed away from water. Futakuchi has no idea if that is actually what you’re supposed to do (he’d completely ignored their mentor, Moniwa’s, tips on how to deal with wounds. Before the nightmare had really started, Futakuchi had never entertained the idea he would die in such a way. He had always thought he had it in him to make it to the end, and when he was being realistic he’d always thought his death would be a quick affair).  
Aone doesn’t wrap the wound again but does help Futakuchi slip into the sleeping bag before getting in next to him.

The next morning brings only a worsening of his condition. Futakuchi is no doctor, but he’s pretty sure the wound is turning necrotic. 

“You should just put me out of my misery,” He tells Aone. His friend ignores him and presses the water bottle to his lips, insisting he drink. “Are you letting me suffer ‘cause I was such a dick back in Seven?” He half jokes, half asks when Aone cleans the wound again. Aone is tender and gentle, something most people don’t expect from him, but Futakuchi knows his friend’s soft nature just as well as he knows his own prickly one. He wonders, briefly, if Aone is so focused on trying to heal him because it’s a better alternative to going out and inflicting harm on others. A way to soothe his soul, perhaps.

“I’m going to check the traps.” Aone says after tending to Futakuchi.

“Have fun.” Futakuchi tells him as he leaves not wanting to say goodbye just yet. He’s pretty sure he isn’t going to die just yet.

And he doesn’t. He sits alone until Aone comes back, empty handed and disappointed looking. 

“I’ve been thinking,” He says as Aone takes a seat next to him, “Would you say this is ‘fair’ or unfair’?”

Aone stares at him, clearly not understanding what Futakuchi is talking about. “‘Cause on one hand, maybe this is divine retribution for always being a little shit in school and to Moniwa. Or, like, payback for being so antagonistic toward the careers before I killed them. Then it’d be fair, right? But I think maybe it could also be seen as unfair, because I _did_ volunteer to take Koganegawa’s place and I think that shoulda given me some brownie points with God or whatever.”

“You’re delirious.”

“Only a little bit,” Futakuchi gives Aone a smile, though it’s pretty weak and forced, “I hope Koganegawa is fucking grateful, the little shit. I can’t believe I actually did that. I mean. I _can_ believe it, cause there’s no way I woulda actually let him come to the games, but it’s definitely not something I ever expected to do.”

Aone hums in agreement, bringing the water bottle up to Futakuchi’s lips again. 

“Yeah, I know you would have done the same thing,” Futakuchi says, “Rotten luck for you to have already been reaped. Fuck, you’re a way better guy than me. The real unfairness is that you’re here too.” He shifts a bit despite the pain and brings a shaking hand up to touch Aone’s face. Aone’s own hand came up to meet and hold Futakuchi’s, warm and calloused against his frail fingers. 

“Your hands are so big compared to mine. That’s _so_ unfair.” Futakuchi whines. Aone lets out a little huff that Futakuchi easily recognizes as a laugh. He cuddles closer, as close as he physically can even as his body protests, something he would never have done had he been fully in his right mind. “Remember that time you sprained my wrist giving me a high-five?”

Aone looks a bit sour as Futakuchi brings that up and he chuckles a bit. He finds that as his fever and delirium get worse, the pain becomes easier to ignore. 

“You’re very handsome, have I ever told you? Unfairly handsome, even,” Futakuchi babbles, not even fully sure of what words are coming out of his mouth anymore, “I mean, who thought it would be a good idea to make you so nice and so attractive? I never stood a chance, _ha._ ”

Aone stares at him, clearly a bit surprised at his confession.

“I love you, I think,” Futakuchi continues, “I’m not too sure what love is supposed to feel like though, but I think it feels like this. I think I’m gonna sleep now, though. You’re surprisingly comfortable to lay on.”

Almost immediately after finishing his sentence, Futakuchi’s eyes slid shut and his body relaxed. He was still breathing, shallowly, and burning hot to the touch but still alive. Aone wasn’t sure if he would last the night though. As he moves into a more comfortable position, wrapping his arms around his friend he finds a single word moving past his lips, spoken so softly it’s little more than just a breath.

“Unfair.”


End file.
